Yesterday's Pain, Today's Anger
by criminalxxxmindsxxxfreak
Summary: Sequel to "A Father's Love" Reid goes to Vegas for the end of Michael's trial, and he runs into Greg in a small bookstore. What happens when an angry man with an assault rifle takes the store hostage for unknown reasons? WARNING: violence and blood
1. Verdict

**A/N: Hey, look at that! I finally got around to writing a sequel! Please forgive me for taking so long... The ideas for "Undercover" and "A Place To Call Home" just wouldn't leave me alone... But now I'm completely finished with "Undercover" and feel that I've written enough on "A Place To Call Home" that I can start this story and it won't interfere with that one.**

**Just as with the last story, I'm totally unsure of how I did writing the CSI team. Mostly Greg, because he's the CSI member that I focus on mainly in this story... Please let me know how I'm doing!**

**This story will be Reid-Centric and Greg-Centric 'cause I loves them both and that's just how I am... (I did mention in the other story how I tend to hurt the characters I love right? Well, if I didn't... I just did... expect it to be bad...)**

**WARNING: Oh, there will absolutely be violence in this story and some blood. Not too sure how long this one will be, but I promise, it won't be pretty...**

"_I know indeed what evil I intend to do, but stronger than all my afterthoughts is my fury, fury that brings upon mortals the greatest evils." -_Euripides

Ch. 1: Verdict

Spencer Reid sat rigid in his chair as the juror began to read out the verdict, tense. The trial hadn't went as smoothly as it could have and he was worried. Across the court room, sitting just as anxiously as he was, was Michael Bradley. The man who had killed six innocent men, and kidnapped him and his father.

The man reading out the verdict was tall and imposing, he reminded Reid of Michael in a way. "We find the defendant, Michael Bradley," this was it, Reid sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked on the man. "Guilty of all charges."

A breath he hadn't realized he was holding whooshed out of his lungs. He felt a small, victorious smile spread across his face as he leaned back against the seat. Michael's reaction was almost violent, his eyes darkening in a very familiar way. Reid had to fight back a cringe of fear, remembering exactly what that dark look could lead to. The sound of chained fists slamming onto a table made everyone gasp, some people screamed. Reid flinched again, and stood from his chair, exiting the court room before all the reporters and media present could realize that he was one of the victims.

He scowled, thinking of that word always made him angry. He didn't want to think about himself as a victim, but he wasn't in denial enough to say that he wasn't. He just didn't like the entire thought. At least the nightmares weren't as bad as they'd been with Tobias…

Reid sighed and glanced down at his phone, wondering whether or not he should call his father… He'd told his dad that he was coming to Vegas for the trial, and he had agreed to meet with him the day after, but he wondered if he should call now and give him the news. Things had been better between the two of them in the last couple of months, but they were nowhere near close. He sighed and put the phone back in his pocket. He could tell his dad tomorrow when he saw him.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Reid walked down the overly crowded streets of Las Vegas, his mind wandering back to the night he'd left the police station to get coffee and he hadn't come back. He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to block the memories. Michael was going to jail now, probably for life… Murdering six men and kidnapping two more was definitely a crime worthy of that much, if not more.

He looked around the streets, spotting tourists quickly and smiling, thinking back to his childhood. If he wasn't reading or at school, Reid would go to the library and sit for hours, sometimes reading, most of the time people watching. He would make up stories for who they were and what they were doing… He always found it easy to pick the natives and tourists apart from one another, having grown up in the large city.

He let his mind wander a little, trying to think of something to do with the rest of the day. He'd visited his mother earlier that morning, having felt even more guilty than usual that he hadn't visited her during his last trip to Vegas. Not that it had been entirely his fault; he'd been kidnapped and locked in a man's basement for a good portion of the trip.

He was debating yet again on whether or not he should call his father when a small bookstore caught his eye. Smiling, he decided yet again, the call to his father could wait. He pushed gently against the door, the clinging of a tiny bell announcing his entrance.

There weren't very many people in the shop, a couple of tourists who were browsing through the romance/adventure section and the store clerk were about it. Reid made his way to the Sci-Fi books, eager to see what the old store had to offer.

* * *

Greg sighed, walking a little dejectedly down the street. He was supposed to have been on a date with a girl he'd met the week before, Ashley Neely. But she'd had to cancel at the last minute, leaving him dateless and alone. He pulled out his phone and stared at it, somehow wishing that there would be a case so he'd have something to do.

He realized it was sort of morbid for him to wish that there was a case, considering that almost always meant that someone had died and he and the rest of the team would have to go over the crime scene and analyze evidence, but he didn't really have much else to do.

He glanced up at a small store as he was walking by and stopped, sighing. He hadn't read a book in a while… he didn't have anything else to do, so he might as well try to find one while he had the time. He pushed the door to the small shop open and entered, the familiar smell of books greeting him.

There weren't too many people in the store, the clerk smiled at him kindly and two women were browsing through the romance novels. There was a taller man looking through the Science Fiction books, but that was - "Reid?" Greg called, frowning.

The other man looked up, holding a thick book in his hands. "Greg, hey," Reid smiled, surprised to see him there. He hadn't talked to anyone on the CSI team in a while. He wondered briefly if they knew about the trial.

"What are you doing here?" Greg asked, walking over to the man. "Another case?"

Reid laughed and shook his head, "No, things have been surprisingly quiet for the past couple of weeks." he said. "Just a few pretty easy cases. Michael's trial was finished today… I decided to come hear the verdict while things were still calm at the BAU."

"Oh, that's right, I forgot about the trial!" Greg said, remembering suddenly. "How'd it go? I heard his lawyer was contesting his confession because of 'police brutality' and some other nonsense."

"He was, but it didn't matter. We had DNA evidence linking him to the crimes, thanks to you and your team. He was found guilty on all counts."

Greg nodded, "Good… bastard deserves to go away forever for what he did. Are you gonna go to the sentencing?"

Reid shrugged, "No, I just took a couple of days off to come visit my mom and find out how the trial went."

"Right, I forgot your mom lives here too. Have you been keeping in touch with your dad?" Greg asked. "You two seemed to be getting closer before you went back to Quantico."

"We talk sometimes…" Reid said slowly. "It's not exactly easy to, uh, establish a real relationship with him after twenty years, but… it's definitely an improvement."

Greg nodded, glad to hear that. He didn't want to butt in where he wasn't welcome, but he'd hoped Reid and his father could patch things up after the kidnapping. He'd been in the hospital the day Reid had been discharged and had seen the look on William's face. He was a man full of guilt, regret and hope.

"Good," he said. Then he smiled, "Seen any good Sci-Fi movies lately?"

Reid grinned, "There was one movie I've been wanting to see, but with work, traveling and all, I haven't had the time yet. I have read a few good books though…"

* * *

He squinted his eyes against the sun, pushing his sunglasses farther up his nose, walking down the streets. He spotted the small book store and grinned, there it was. The place where it had happened. A scowl formed across his face then. She hadn't deserved that.

He reached a hand into his long overcoat, and ran a hand over the gun inside. She had been innocent, completely innocent. His lips tightened as he pushed the door open. It had been a year since it had happened. It was time for someone to pay.


	2. Hostage Situation

**A/N: Wow... Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I'm super thrilled that people are intrested in this story.**

**I don't know what it is, but I just feel like I'm not doing a great job with this already. It's frustratingly difficult to write this at some points... But I will continue to write, don't worry!**

**WARNING: violence and blood**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

* * *

Ch. 2: Hostage Situation

He looked around the shop as he entered, counting the people inside… there weren't many. The store clerk - probably the manager - smiled at him as he pushed the door open; two women, probably tourists, stood giggling and talking in the romance section; and two men stood talking in the Sci-Fi book section, both kind of tall and skinny. He saw one of them, the one with the moppy light brown hair that was slightly curly, frown in his direction for a moment.

He pushed his hand back in the inside of his heavy overcoat, fingering the hilt of the gun. His thoughts wandered back to her and what had happened in this very store a year ago… It was definitely time that someone paid for it. He didn't care who at this point; it was everyone's fault as far as he was concerned.

He glanced around the store, taking everything in, trying to seem as casual as he could. There was one security camera in the corner near the entrance and he frowned, studying it for a moment. After he didn't move for a few minutes the clerk asked, "Sir, is there something I can help you with?" her smile never wavering.

He glanced at her, her blond hair pulled back in a lose pony tail, her green eyes wide and bright. She was probably thirty, maybe a little older. She looked a little bit like _her. _The thought made him angry. He frowned, "Yeah," he said slowly, watching everyone else in the store. The two women didn't pay him any attention, but the men, especially the really skinny one, were watching him with interest. He suddenly whipped the gun - a large assault rifle - out of his coat and hit the clerk in the face, sending her sprawling to the floor. He aimed the gun at the security camera and pulled the trigger, obliterating the thing.

* * *

Reid looked up instinctively when he heard the door to the shop opening. A tall man with dark eyes stood in the entrance, wearing a heavy overcoat. Reid frowned, staring at him then. Why would anyone wear a heavy coat like that in this heat? "Hey, dude, are you listening?" Greg frowned at him, waving a hand in front of his face.

"Huh, oh… sorry…" Reid said. "No. Do you know him?" he asked, nodding toward the man, who's dark eyes were studying the store. Reid didn't like the look in his eyes. Something was wrong, he just didn't know what.

Greg looked over his shoulder at the guy, shaking his head. "No, but he's obviously crazy. What kind of idiot wears a coat like that when it's over ninety degrees outside?" he joked, smiling. His smile shrank when he saw the look on Reid's face. "Something wrong?" he asked.

"He's acting kind of… nervous." Reid said. "See how he's eyeing the camera and studying the store?" he asked, frowning at the guy.

Greg studied the man for a moment, "Okay, sure, but what does that have to with anything?"

Reid almost smiled, "Profiler, remember?" he asked. "I'm trained to study human behavior, and there is obviously something wrong with that man… he's really upset about something. And like you said, why would you wear an overcoat like that when it's so hot outside?"

Greg shrugged, "Maybe… and maybe you're just being paranoid… overactive imagination because of all that profiling you do."

Reid rolled his eyes, "Sure, that's it," he said sarcastically. He looked back at the man and saw him reach into his overcoat; he tensed. Suddenly the man pulled out an assault rifle and hit the clerk in the head, knocking her down, then he shot the camera to pieces, his eyes darkening dangerously and darting around the room.

He jumped, but held back a yelp. Greg, next to him, jerked violently and looked back at the man again, fear consuming his eyes. Both women screamed, dropping the books in their hands, freaking out. "Everyone, SHUT UP!" the man yelled, waving the gun in the air threateningly. Reid bit his lip, glancing at Greg, who was staring at him in shock. "Guess you were right," he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

The man glared at them, "I said shut up!" he yelled at them. "I want everyone to come to the front of the store NOW!"

The two women, one with curly red hair and dark brown eyes, the other with messy black hair and bright blue eyes, immediately rushed to the front of the store. Reid and Greg hesitated, but when the man glared at them they moved, cautiously. "Give me your IDs," he ordered, holding his hand out.

Again the women quickly offered up their wallets, panic clear in their eyes, whimpering. They were clearly hoping that giving the man their wallets would calm him down. That he was just there to rob them. Reid knew differently. There was no way that this man had gone to all this trouble to rob a few people in a small bookstore.

The man turned the wallets over in his hands and looked at the drivers license in each. "Taylor, Michelle," he said, addressing the women, "Sit down in that corner there," he ordered. The two women glanced at each other, but a shove from the man put them in motion. They quickly sat, staring in fear at the man.

"IDs," he ordered, glaring at Reid and Greg. The two men glanced at one another and Greg slowly pulled his wallet out, handing it to the guy. He grunted and opened it, "Greg… hmm… a CSI, huh?" he studied Greg for a moment, something akin to hatred there in those dark eyes. "What about you?" he snapped, glaring at Reid. "ID."

Reid frowned at the man and glanced at the unconscious clerk on the floor, "Why are you doing this?" he asked, "If you want something, I'm sure that I know someone who could help you… this woman needs medical attention. If you could just -"

"I said GIVE ME YOUR ID!" the man bellowed, swinging the gun and hutting Reid in the abdomen painfully. Reid gasped and doubled over, trying desperately to catch his breath. He would've fallen over if Greg hadn't caught him. He reached a shaky hand into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, wincing.

The man snatched the wallet from his pocket and flipped it open, "FBI…" he said, suddenly glaring at Reid. "Well then, _Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid_," he said sardonically, "You and Mr. Sanders go sit there, by the clerk."

Greg helped Reid sit down by the unconscious woman on the floor. There was blood on the side of her head, but she was breathing. Reid's cell phone started ringing and he looked down at his pocket, surprised.

The man suddenly looked at him, "Give me your phones too," he ordered, holding his hands out. Regretfully, Reid pulled out his still ringing phone and handed it to the man, Greg and the two women doing the same. He pocketed the cell phones, same as the IDs, and stood there, staring at the hostages for a moment, looking deep in thought.

After several minutes had gone by, Reid chanced speaking again, "What exactly is it that you want?" he asked.

The man glared at him for a moment, staring at him. After a brief pause, he said, "I want them to pay for not helping her."

* * *

"Where's Reid?" Prentiss asked, looking over at his empty desk.

"He said he was going to Vegas for Michael's trial," Morgan answered. "He should be back the day after tomorrow."

"Oh, that's right," Prentiss nodded, then glancing at her watch, she frowned, "Do you think the trial's over by now?" she asked.

"Should be," Morgan said, "Why, you gonna call him and see how it went?"

Prentiss grinned, her cell phone already in her hands, "You're one hell of a profiler, Derek Morgan." she teased. Then frowned, "Odd…" she said. "He's not answering."

"Maybe the trial isn't over yet," Morgan suggested. "Call him back in a couple of hours, see how it went then."

She sighed, "Maybe… I'll call him back in an hour." she said, putting her phone away.

* * *

"Brass," Detective Jim Brass said, answering his phone absently. He sat up straighter suddenly. "What? Send all available units there now… Do we know who's inside? Damn… Alright… get that footage over to CSI immediately. I at least want an ID on the assailant."

He hung up the phone and ran a hand tiredly through his hair. Just when things seemed to be quieting down after the Michael Bradley case, this happens. _What kind of person holds hostages in a book store?_ "I'm getting too old for this," he muttered, shaking his head. He pulled out his cell phone and called Grissom, informing him that security footage would be coming his way shortly. Putting the phone away again, he stood, checking his gun in the holster on his hip, and hurried out of the station.


	3. Identification

**A/N: Ok, once again thanks to all of the wonderful peoplez who reviewed and commented and favorited and alerted this :)**

**So, maybe it is just me but I feel like this story isn't coming out right... ugh...**

**let me know what you think, please!**

**WARNING: violence and blood**

**PLEASE REVIEW**

* * *

Ch. 3: Identifications

Nick sighed, Warrick standing next to him the darkened lab room, staring at the CCTV recordings from right outside the bookstore. They needed to ID anyone inside the store and whoever it was who had started this whole mess. "What exactly happened anyway?" Warrick asked, frowning at the screen as they watched the store manager open up the shop for the day.

"Shots were reported from the book store, cops were called, the store's doors have been locked and from outside all that can be seen is a man with an assault riffle. We need to find out if there are hostages inside and, obviously, what the heck this guy wants," Nick answered, fast forwarding the footage. Two women entered the store, and left. Then a man came and went a little while later.

"Must be a slow day," Warrick muttered.

"That just got a lot slower," Nick said. "So far the store manager is the only person we can confirm is still inside."

"We've got her name already, Vanessa Clearwater," Warrick said, glancing down at the file. "We're gonna have to work a little harder to get identification on any customers,"

They watched as two women, tourists most likely, entered the store. Sighing, Nick fast forwarded again until they saw another man enter the store. "Wait, back that up a second," Warrick said, taking the remote from Nick. They watched again as the man entered the store. He was tall and thin with moppy brown hair… "Is that…?"

"No," Nick frowned, shaking his head. "It can't be…" He replayed the scene again in slow motion. "It is," his frown deepened.

"It's Agent Reid," Warrick said. "I thought they were kidding about him being a trouble magnet."

Nick sighed, "You'd think the kid's been through enough." He played the footage again and watched as another familiar man entered the store a few minutes later. "Is that Greg?" Warrick asked, frowning.

They watched again as the young man entered the store and scowled, "That's Greg," Nick confirmed. "Damn… who else is gonna be in that store today? Grissom?"

Warrick rolled his eyes and they started the tape again. Finally, a man in a dark overcoat entered the store, and moments later, someone on the street screamed and they saw from the glass door, the man waving around an assault rifle. "So we have three unidentified people in the store, two of whom are hostages."

"Yeah…" Nick sighed, "Who's gonna call Brass and tell him a federal agent and a CSI are in there?"

"Better yet, who's gonna call Grissom?" Warrick asked, staring at the frozen tape of the man waving around the gun.

* * *

Brass stared at the store front, seeing the man who had started this whole mess standing far back from the glass door, holding an assault rifle.

"Can you get a shot if we need to take one?" he asked an officer standing next to him.

The younger man shook his head, "I could probably get a clear shot right now, but the glass on the store front is bullet proof. They had it replaced last year after there was a robbery…"

Brass sighed and looked back up at the store front. He saw an SUV pull up and Catherine, Grissom and Sara stepped out, looking very unhappy. He was about to speak to them when his phone buzzed. He yanked it out of his pocket, "Brass," he barked, not in a good mood already.

He blinked, listening as Nick explained that they had IDed three of the hostages already… "What?" he scowled. "You're sure? Yeah… he's right here, I'll tell him."

Grissom frowned, "Are you talking about me?" he asked.

Brass snapped the phone shut and nodded, "Yeah. Nick and Warrick already have IDs on three hostages."

"Without having to run their faces through the system?" Catherine frowned, brushing hair out of her face.

"One is the store manager, her name's on our file. Vanessa Clearwater. The other two …" he frowned. "Are Greg, and the FBI agent from the BAU that was kidnapped a few months ago… Agent Reid."

"Are you serious?" Sara stared at him incredulously.

Brass sighed, nodding. "Unfortunately…" he said. "I think we should call his team."

"What?" Sara frowned, "Why?"

"One, to tell them that Reid has been taken hostage, and two to ask for their help. They know how to negotiate in hostage situations better than anyone we have here." Brass explained, already pulling out his phone and dialing the number.

* * *

Hotch called the team to the conference room, scowling. "We've got a problem," he said.

"What?" Morgan asked, frowning. He didn't like the look on Hotch's face.

"I just got a call from Detective Brass," Hotch said. "They've got a hostage situation in a small book store in town… five hostages."

"That's not too bad, why'd he call us?" Prentiss frowned.

"Because one of the hostages is Reid," Hotch answered, looking grim. "They want us to help ID two other hostages and the unsub… find out what he wants and talk him down. The footage is already on it's way to Garcia. Wheels up in ten," He turned and left the conference room, a very determined look on his face.

"Reid's being help hostage by some psycho in a book store?" Morgan breathed, looking shocked.

"He was just kidnapped a second time," Prentiss shook her head.

"Can his luck get any worse?" JJ wondered aloud.

Rossi frowned, following them out of the room. "When you think about it, it could be seen as good luck," he said.

"How? He's being held hostage for the fourth or fifth time, after being kidnapped a second time a few months ago!" Morgan demanded.

"He's still alive," Rossi pointed out. "He survived all of that. Stands to reason, he'll survive this too."

"He'd better," Morgan muttered, grabbing his go-bag from under his desk. "Or I'll kill him."

* * *

Reid frowned at the man, trying to put together a profile with what little he had to go on. It wasn't working very well. He heard the cops pull up and surround the store. He wondered how good of a job they'd do talking the unsub down. He bit his lip. The best way to end this was to find out what he wanted.

"Make who pay?" he whispered, staring at the man.

He glared down at him. "All of them! They didn't do anything to save her! She died and it's all their fault!"

"All whose fault?" Reid asked.

"The police! Law enforcement! They didn't do anything to help her! And he gets away with just a few years in prison!" he bellowed, his eyes on fire. "And now they're going to pay for that."

He looked back at the door, seeing the cops that were gathered outside. The perfect stage for his show… He turned back to the hostages. The manager was still unconscious. He frowned, glancing back to the cops outside. They needed to know what he felt… he needed to let them know he was serious.

He strapped the assault rifle to his back and pulled out a handgun. He stared at it.

Reid blinked, watching the man. Something bad was about to happen, he could feel it. He just wished the man would open up and tell him exactly what happened… he'd said he wanted law enforcement to pay for that they'd done to her, whoever she was… he glanced back at Greg. They were both technically law enforcement and the unsub knew that.

The man gripped the gun in his hands, aimed it and fired off one shot.


	4. Shot

**A/N: Thanks sooooo much for all the reviews... :) Still not totally sure how well I'm doing with Greg's character, but your comments are very motivating, so thanks :) :)**

**WARNING: violence and blood (this chapter is kinda bad...)**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

* * *

Ch. 4: Shot

Reid watched as the man aimed the gun, heard the shot go off and then screams. The two women, Taylor and Michelle, had screamed as the bullet left the barrel of the gun with a thunderous bang. Neither Reid nor Greg had time to react as the bullet propelled itself in their direction. Reid waited for pain, maybe even death, but it didn't come. The round hadn't been aimed at him.

Greg gasped, feeling the air in his lungs suddenly dissipate as a fiery, tearing, ripping pain knocked him back a couple of inches. Automatically, his hand when to his chest, but there wasn't any blood on his chest, it was his shoulder. He could feel the bullet still inside, burning into his muscles. He bit his lip to fight back the scream as his other hand clutched the bloody shoulder.

"Greg," Reid's voice sounded distant to him. Like he was miles away. All Greg could really focus on was the pain. God, it hurt. "Greg are you alright?" Reid gently pushed Greg back so that he was sitting against the counter. Greg moaned and shut his eyes, already looking paler. Blood dripped through his fingers as he clutched the wound.

Reid looked around frantically, and his eyes settled on the unconscious woman on the floor in front of him. She was wearing a thin coat over her shirt. He hated to touch her at all while she was unconscious, but he needed something to bandage the gunshot in Greg's shoulder so that he wouldn't bleed to death. He rolled her over carefully and pulled her closer to them, taking the coat off.

He wasn't exactly the strongest man in the world so tearing the coat - despite it's thin material - was difficult, but he managed to get a few useable strips and helped Greg tie them around his arm as tightly as he could without hurting him. The entire time the unsub just stood there, watching them. He didn't say anything, he just watched.

Reid looked up at him, his hands now covered in Greg's blood, and frowned, "Why did you do that?" he demanded. "We weren't threatening you. He didn't do anything to -"

"He's working with the police. He's just as bad as they are. And so are you," the man glared at him. "Now shut up or I'll shoot you too."

Reid bit his lip and tried again, "What did the police do that made you so angry?" he asked. "Maybe I can help you… if you'll let me."

His eyes narrowed, "I told you, _Dr. Reid, _they let her die!"

"They let who die?" he asked. The man ignored him, turning back towards the front of the store and walking away. Reid sighed, defeated. There had to be a way to get this guy talking…

"Why… d-do you keep talking to him?" Greg asked, his voice raspy. His eyes were open again. "It only seems to make him angry."

"If I can figure out what made him decided to do this, I might be able to get us out of here alive. He's angry at the police because they let someone die… That means he's probably only taking people hostage because he wanted to get police here. He's not really interested in hurting anyone except law enforcement."

"_We're _law enforcement," Greg pointed out, wincing as he shifted slightly.

"Which is probably why he shot you. He's trying to make the police pay for what they did… whatever it was, by showing them what he can do. If I can get him to talk, maybe I can convince him to let some of us go." Reid said.

Taylor, one of the women sitting across from them in the corner, listened and frowned. "You're with the FBI, right?" she whispered, glancing over at the unsub.

Reid nodded, "Yeah… I'm with the Behavioral Analysis Unit."

"So, don't you have a gun or something?" she asked, looking hopeful.

Reid sighed and shook his head, "No. I actually took a few days off to come here and … visit family. I didn't even bring my gun with me."

The woman looked deflated then. "Oh… so, then… you work for the FBI, though… what are the odds of us getting out of this alive?" she looked absolutely terrified.

"Well… in this situation, he doesn't seem to interested in harming hostages. It's the police and law enforcement he's angry at. I'd say you have a pretty good chance of coming out of this unscratched if they can figure out what it is that made him so angry." Reid said.

"And if they can't?" she asked.

Reid blinked, "I'm sure they will," he said. "Once they've identified him, it shouldn't be difficult."

She nodded, but didn't look very reassured. "Hey, Reid," Greg's voice turned his attention back to his injured friend.

"What?" he asked, worried.

"Have you ever been shot?" he asked, wincing again.

"Yeah, once." Reid answered, frowning at the man sitting next to him.

"Did it hurt?" he asked. "'Cause I think right now I'd rather have my arm ripped off than feel this pain."

Reid laughed, "Yeah, it hurt. But I think physical therapy is worse. Actually trying to move my leg after all the muscle and tissue damage and the surgery… it was very unpleasant."

Greg smiled a little brokenly, "I think I'd put up with the physical therapy…" he said. "If the therapist was hot."

"So what have we got?" Morgan asked as they settled onto the jet.

Hotch frowned, "Not much so far. An unidentified male entered the book store early this afternoon, and soon after, shot the security camera and locked the doors to the store. Cops arrived minutes later, and so far no contact has been established. They're waiting until they get an ID."

"What about the hostages?" Prentiss asked.

"So far, only three have been identified. Vanessa Clearwater, the store manager, Reid and Greg Sanders, one of the CSIs we worked with on the Michael Bradley case." Hotch said.

"Wait, Greg was taken hostage too?" Morgan frowned.

"Strange," Rossi said, "Do you think this unsub knew them?"

Hotch shook his head, "It's unlikely," he said. "Reid was only in town for a few days for the trial, and Greg, according to Nick, had other plans that day. Neither of them actually planned on going to that book store at all."

"Bad luck," JJ murmured. "Has the CCTV footages been sent to Garcia?" she asked.

"Yes, she's working on IDing the other two hostages and the unsub. Something made this guy do this, we just need to know what."

Brass jerked involuntarily at the sound of the shot. "Was that a gun?" Sara demanded, looking toward the shop. She desperately hoped not… she knew two people inside who she didn't want to be hurt.

"I think it was," Grissom said, looking worried. "Why would he fire a shot?"

"I don't know," Brass said, looking back at the door of the shop. "But I really wish those profilers would get here fast. Has Nick or Warrick got an ID on the guy yet?" he asked.

"Not yet, but they sent the footage to that tech girl at Quantico, Garcia. I'm pretty sure she can get us something, faster than we can." Catherine said, pushing her sunglasses up her nose. "I just hope we get it in time to save them"


	5. Unidentified Subject

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! I really appriciate the feedback! :) The unsub is identified in this chapter! Some of you have sort of guessed why he's doing this already :)**

**WARNING: violence and blood**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

* * *

Ch. 5: Unidentified Subject

The BAU pulled up outside of the store, having to weave their way around nearly a dozen cop cars and a couple of similar SUVs parked out front. Detective Brass was standing with Grissom, Sara and Catherine. "Agent Hotchner," Brass greeted them. "Good to see you again," he said as the two men shook hands.

"Wish it could've been under different circumstances," Hotch said, looking worriedly at the book store. "You remember the team? Agents Rossi, Prentiss, JJ, and Morgan." Hotch said.

The detective nodded, "Of course," he said.

"Have you established contact with the unsub yet?" Rossi asked, pushing his sun glasses on.

"No, we're waiting for ID before we try to talk to him… and I was hoping that your team might want to do the negotiating." Brass said.

"Of course," Hotch said, nodding. "Garcia should have IDs soon."

Just as the words left his mouth, Morgan's phone started buzzing. "Hey, Baby Girl, please tell me you have something for us."

"I have everything you've ever wanted, handsome," Garcia smiled. "And as an added bonus, I even have IDs on both unknown hostages and the unsub."

"Alright, so let's hear it," Morgan said, sounding impatient. Reid was in that store right now, with a man who had an assault riffle. He wanted him out of there as soon as possible.

"The two women are Taylor Norman, a sales representative from Arizona, and her sister-in-law, Michelle Ingram, a substitute teacher, also from Arizona." Garcia informed him.

"And what about the unsub?" Morgan pressed.

"Your angry psycho with a gun is George Hanley. Get this, exactly a year ago to the date, that book store was robbed and a clerk was killed. The woman who was working that night was Melanie Hanley… his wife." Garcia informed him.

"Well that explains why the book store… and why now. But what does he want?" Morgan wondered aloud.

"Well… I'm not a hundred percent sure, but he did file a report, actually several, and tried to sue the officers who responded because if they'd gotten there sooner, Melanie would've survived. It wasn't the officers' fault though, there weren't many cops on duty that night. Apparently, he was also unhappy with the sentence given to the man who killed his wife. He was charged with voluntary manslaughter and armed robbery, but the judge only gave him ten years because he was only seventeen, even though he was tried as an adult." Garcia frowned.

"So this guy probably has it out for law enforcement…" Morgan murmured.

"Looks like it," Garcia said. "And Morgan?"

"Yeah, Baby Girl?"

"Get my baby out of there, alright?" she said.

"We're working on it, Garcia. I promise," Morgan said, shutting the phone.

"What'd she say?" Sara asked, looking at him curiously.

"The two hostages that weren't originally identified are tourist, Taylor Norman and Michelle Ingram, sister-in-laws. The unsub is George Hanley. His wife was killed in a robbery in this book store exactly a year ago, and he apparently blamed the officers for her death." Morgan said.

"So what does that mean?" Grissom asked, frowning.

"It means this unsub isn't doing this because of the hostages… he's doing this to prove a point and get back at law enforcement." Prentiss said grimly.

"And it means we're ready to talk to him," Hotch said.

* * *

George was sitting against a bookcase, between the two women and the men, holding the handgun absently in his hands. He hadn't spoken to any of them since he'd shot Greg, despite Reid's best efforts to get him talking. He didn't seem interested in talking. Reid was beginning to wonder if the man even had a plan at all or if he had only thought it as far as taking hostages.

That could be both good and bad… if he didn't have a plan it would make it easier to talk him out of doing whatever he was doing… but it also made him unpredictable. Reid glanced at Greg, who was breathing harshly next to him. At least he was still breathing.

A low moan turned his attention to the woman lying next to him. She winced and twitched slightly, her eyes fluttering open, then clamping shut again for a brief second. After a minute's pause, she opened her eyes again and pushed herself up with a gigantic heave. Breathing heavily, she looked around the store confused until her eyes fell on the man with the gun.

Panic flickered across her eyes but before she could say anything, Reid gripped her arm, turning her attention to him. He put a finger to his lips to keep her quiet. "He'll probably ignore you if you don't talk to him," he whispered. She stared at him for a long moment, looking scared and confused.

"What happened?" she whispered back.

"He hit you with the gun, knocked you out, shot the camera, locked the doors… for right now, we're stuck here. The cops are outside, probably trying to get an ID on him and figure out a way to talk him down." Reid explained.

She nodded slowly, but then her eyes fell on Greg and she looked panicked again. "W-what happened to him?" she demanded.

Reid bit his, "He was shot… he shot him because he works with CSI… and he doesn't like law enforcement." Reid explained.

"How do you know that?" Vanessa asked, frowning him.

"I've been talking to him, trying to figure out what he wants so I can get him to let us go." Reid answered, glancing over at the man.

"I thought you said not to talk to him," Vanessa said, looking confused again.

"I did," Reid said. "But I'm with the FBI… the Behavioral Analysis Unit. I'm trained to talk down criminals."

She blinked, "You're with the FBI?" she asked. "Do you have a gun or something?"

He sighed and shook his head, "I'm not working," he said. "I didn't bring my gun with me."

She looked disappointed again and leaned her head against the counter. "How long has it been?" she asked.

"A couple of hours," Reid said. "I'm sure the cops are working on getting us out of here,"

The ringing of the phone broke off their conversation. Reid looked up and then quickly back at the man, who was instantly on his feet. He noticed the man's hesitation. "You should answer it," he said slowly. "It's probably the cops… they want to know what you want."

He glared at Reid for a moment, looking suspicious, but apparently decided to do what he said. He walked around behind the counter and ripped the phone off the hook. "What?" he demanded, his voice gruff and angry.


	6. Phone Call

**A/N: Thanks again for all the reviews! These chapters are coming out so slow in my mind it's driving me insane! The BAU makes contact with George in this chapter... wonder what's gonna happen...**

**WARNING: violence and blood**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

* * *

Ch. 6: Phone Call

Greg glanced up at the man who was angrily glaring at the counter, listening to the voice on the other end of the line. He winced as he turned his head back to Reid, "Do you think they'll be able to talk him down?" he asked quietly. His voice was strained. Breathing hurt more than it should, he realized. He had never noticed how much he moved his shoulders when he breathed.

Reid looked at him, worried and hopeful at the same time. "I think so," he said. "If they're calling it probably means that they've got an ID on him. And with an ID, they might have some idea of what he wants here."

"But what does he want?" Vanessa asked, over hearing the conversation.

Greg watched Reid's eyes darken. "So far all I've figured is that he wants revenge against law enforcement." he said. "I'm not even sure if he really has a plan,"

"Is that bad?" Greg asked, wincing again.

"Depends," Reid said. "It could work in our favor." he answered. "If he doesn't have a plan, it might be easier to talk him down. You should really sit still, Greg," he said, watching as his friend tried to shift positions again. "Moving too much is only going to cause you more pain."

Greg laughed slightly, "I've noticed," he said. "But sitting still is making everything else stiff."

Reid nodded sympathetically, "Just don't move so much," he cautioned. "It'll also speed up your heart rate, which will make the wound bleed more, and depending on long this lasts… that could be a very bad thing."

"Shut up!" an angry voice snapped at them from above. The man was still holding the phone to his ear, scowling.

"You're telling me to surrender, Agent Rossi?" he asked, turning his attention back to the phone.

Reid and Greg looked up suddenly, recognizing the name. "Your team's here." Greg murmured, looking somewhat hopeful.

"They must know we're in here then," Reid said. "Rossi's good… if anyone can talk him down it's him."

Greg nodded, "Good. I'm definitely ready to get out of here." he whispered.

"You and me both." Reid replied.

* * *

Rossi, Hotch and Brass stood around a phone, speaker on. "Rossi, I want you to do the talking," Hotch said. "I don't want you to mention Reid or Greg, if he doesn't know who they are already, I don't want him to. He's angry at law enforcement and he could decided to take it out on them"

The older man nodded, "Got it," he said. They waited while the phone rang, and finally a man's gruff, angry voice came over the speaker.

"What?" he snapped.

"George Hanley," Rossi began slowly. "I'm Special Agent David Ross, with the FBI."

The voice on the other end of the line was angry, "What do you want?" he asked.

"We want to know why you're doing this," Rossi said. "Those are innocent people in there… if there's something that you want, let them go and we can talk. Just you and me."

There was a long pause and then the man suddenly yelled, "Shut up!" At first, Rossi thought he was speaking to him, then he realized that it must've been someone inside the store. "You're telling me to surrender, Agent Rossi?" George asked, his voice angry.

"No," Rossi said quickly, "I'm asking you to let the hostages go, and let's talk."

"No." George said roughly, his voice tight. "If I let them go, there's nothing standing between me and prison."

Rossi sighed, "Tell me what this is about," he said, trying to get the man to open up.

There was another long pause, "They didn't save her," he said slowly.

"Save who?" Rossi asked, glancing up at Hotch. "Melanie?"

The man's voice was quiet, "Yes. Melanie." he answered.

"Alright, so you're angry about what happened to Melanie." Rossi said slowly. "That wasn't our fault. I'm with the FBI… we weren't even here when Melanie was killed."

"That doesn't matter, you work with law enforcement, you're all to blame!" George snapped, sounding angry again.

Rossi bit his lip, Hotch and Brass glanced at each other worriedly. The sound of the gunshot from earlier was suddenly replayed in Brass's mind. He'd told them about the shot, but without any footage inside they couldn't determine whether or not someone had been shot.

"Ok, George, just calm down." Rossi said slowly. "Tell me what is it that you want."

"What I want, _Agent, _is for someone, for all of you, to pay for what you did." The phone was slammed back down and the three men glanced nervous at each other… that couldn't be good.

"Shouldn't you call him back?" Brass asked, frowning at the two FBI agents.

"No, let him calm down first. The last thing we want is for him to get angry and start killing hostages to make some sort of point." Hotch said, shaking his head.

"What did he mean by that?" Grissom asked, standing behind Brass, "He said he wanted 'all of us' to pay for what happened to his wife."

"I don't know," Hotch answered, looking worried. "But it doesn't sound good."

* * *

Nick pressed his foot against the gas peddle, willing the SUV to move faster. Greg and Reid were both in danger, he wanted to be there now. "Think you could drive any faster?" Warrick asked, his brows knitted together. Not only was one of his best friends missing, but from the few days he'd spent with Reid, he knew the kid didn't deserve something like this, especially not after what he'd been through the last time he was in Vegas.

"I'm trying," Nick said irritably. He sighed, glaring at the cars around them, "Traffic isn't exactly helpful."

"So avoid traffic," Warrick said, reaching forward and flipping on the lights and siren. Nick smiled and nodded, weaving around the cars faster than before.


	7. Tension

**A/N: Thanks yet again to all of the amazing reviewers! :) I loves you people! :)**

**Uh oh... the teams were actually getting along as friends in the last one, but stress can get people angry... there's some tension between the teams in this chapter...**

**WARNING: violence and blood (poor Reid and Greg... i think I have a problem...)**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

* * *

Ch. 7: Tension

Reid looked up as the phone was slammed down, the man's eyes were angry. He recognized the look from before, when he'd shot Greg. That couldn't be good. He glanced toward Greg again, who's face had a sheen of sweat on it, but his eyes were still open, even though it seemed like he was fighting for breath at the moment. Reid wondered worriedly if the bullet had hit an artery… If Greg didn't get a doctor soon, he could bleed to death.

George came around the counter again, the revolver in his hands. "You," he said angrily, waving the gun at Reid, "You're FBI,"

Reid blinked and nodded slowly, "Y-yes…" he said nervously, not liking the look on the man's face.

"So it's your fault the FBI is here now," The man concluded.

"What? No… I didn't have anything to do with that…" Reid stuttered. "Local law enforcement bring in FBI negotiators all the time for hostage situations."

"Not for something so small," George said. He knew how the law worked, he'd been studying it a lot since Melanie's death. "The only reason they would be here is because of you. Because you're an FBI agent," his voice was angry and hard. "They can't call in the FBI to help my wife, but they can call them in to help some kid because he happens to have a badge," he sneered.

Reid shook his head, "No, that's not true… they're here to ease the situation with a minimal loss of life," he stumbled over the words. "It has nothing to do with the fact that I'm here." He knew he was probably lying at this point. The BAU wouldn't have come for something like this normally… maybe a single FBI negotiator would be sent if there wasn't another available. No, his team was here because he was here.

"Stand up," George ordered, hate glistening in his eyes.

Reid's eyes were wide with fear. Greg was staring between the unsub and his friend, wondering what was about to happen. He didn't like the look in George's eyes. Reid glanced at Greg and back up at the man. "W-why?" he asked, his voice quiet.

"I said stand up!" he bellowed, pointing the gun in his face. Vanessa, Taylor and Michelle all cringed in fear and covered their eyes. "Don't make me kill you!"

Greg sucked in a harsh breath, pain shooting up through his arm. Was he serious? He couldn't really want to kill Reid could he? Reid's breath quickened and he slowly got to his feet, the gun still in his face.

George grabbed Reid's arm and dragged him around behind the counter, shoving him down into one of the two desk chairs there. "You think you're more important than she was!" he demanded, fire glittering in his eyes.

Reid shook his head, "No, I don't -"

"Don't lie!" George snapped, suddenly his hand whipped out and the gun slammed into the side of his head, blood leaking from a newly formed gash. His head spun and he blinked, latching onto the arms of the chair to keep himself upright. "It's _you're _fault that she died!" the man yelled. "You and every other self important cop or detective who thinks that just because someoneisn't one of you they aren't important enough to be saved!"

Reid shook his head again, wincing as pain shot through his head. His vision was blurry and there seemed to be two of everything. "No," he said, his voice weaker than before. He blinked several times, trying to get rid of the spinning double images, "I didn't have anything to with what happened to… Melanie." he said, recalling the name that George had said while talking to Rossi. He hoped desperately that he had guessed right and she was the 'she' he kept referring to.

George's face relaxed by a fraction and he stared at Reid. Then his eyes narrowed, "Yes you did! You're all the same. All of you need to be punished!" He pointed the gun at him, the barrel right between Reid's eyes.

He could feel tears starting to fall, despite his best efforts to stop them. "P-please," he said, his voice breaking. "You don't have to do this. You can stop this right now… Let me help you,"

George frowned, something odd sparking in his eyes. "Help me…?" he murmured. Slowly, the gun was lowered, and he stared at Reid. Then his fist whirled out and slammed into his stomach, knocking the air out of him. He doubled over and fell on the floor, hitting his head again against the floor. Darkness was clawing at his vision now, and he fought to stay conscious. _I must have a concussion._ Reid thought absently. _Again._ Then the darkness took over and he passed out.

* * *

Nick and Warrick stepped out of the SUV and looked around. There were at least a dozen cop cars scattered around the front of the store, a couple of officers with rifles, and several more standing around looking angry and worried. They spotted Brass, Catherine and the Sara standing around a small phone with Agents Rossi, Hotchner, Prentiss, JJ and Morgan.

"Has anything happened?" Nick asked, walking up to the small group.

"So far not much," Brass answered. "They just talked to the guy, George Hanley, but he hung up on them angry. A couple of hours ago we heard what we think was a gun shot, but we aren't sure if he shot anyone or not."

"So call the bastard back," Nick said, looking angry. "Greg and Reid are in there!"

"We know, Nick," Morgan said. "But calling him back right now could make him angrier. We need to let him calm down. We'll call him back in about a half hour, until then, we've got to wait."

"Wait? You expect us to wait while innocent lives are in danger?" Warrick frowned, "This guy could kill them!"

"We know, Warrick," Prentiss said calmly. "But he's angry right now, and if he get's more angry, he could decide kill one of them. That's what we're trying to prevent. We want this guy to let the hostages go and surrender calmly."

Sara scowled, "Hostages?" she demanded. "There are two people in there that I consider a friend," she snapped. "And you have the nerve to refer to them as simply hostages?"

"I didn't mean -"

"Stop it!" Hotch and Brass snapped at the same time, glaring around the group.

"We've got a man who's obviously angry, with an assault rifle and hostages." Hotch said. "We've got friends inside yes, but we cannot allow emotions to get in the way." His stern glare passed over each of them meaningfully.

"We've worked together before," Brass pointed out, "Or have you forgotten that we're all friends here?"

They all looked down guiltily, their faces tight. Mumbled apologies could be heard from each of them. "Good," Hotch said. "Try to remember that we're on the same side. We are doing everything possible to get everyone out of there alive."

* * *

Greg twisted his head as much as he could when George dragged Reid around behind the counter. He heard the man yelling at Reid and Reid trying to reason with him. When a sickening thud reached his ears he turned his head back quickly, wincing again as pain ripped through his shoulder.

He shut his eyes, trying not to imagine what that sound had meant. He didn't hear Reid talking any more, and that worried him. When George walked back around the counter, he was alone. Taking a risk, Greg cleared his throat and asked, "Wh-where's Reid?"

The man glared at him, "Shut up or you'll join him." George snapped.

Greg blinked, worry clenching his stomach. "I-is he…?"

The man frowned at him and shook his head angrily, "He's alive, now shut up." he ordered.

Somewhat relieved that his friend was still alive - according to the psycho with the gun - Greg leaned his head back against the counter, forcing himself to keep his eyes open, and stared at the ceiling. He was starting to get dizzier than he had been before. That was bad. He glanced down at his wounded shoulder and quickly looked away.

The makeshift bandage that Reid had made was soaked through completely with blood, which was dripping its way down his arm. He didn't want to think about how much blood he had lost, but he knew if he didn't see a doctor soon, he would probably black out from blood loss or at the very worst, bleed to death.


	8. Decisions

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! :) I loves you peoples!**

**WARNING: violence and blood... I think I might be evil...**

**PLEASE REVIEW! :)**

* * *

Ch. 8: Decisions

Hotch, JJ, Prentiss, Morgan, Rossi, Brass, Nick, Greg, Catherine, Sara, Warrick and Grissom stood anxiously around the phone, watching the minutes tick by. Officers were still scattered around, trying to appear as if they were actually doing something despite the fact that at the moment, all they really could do was watch George Hanley through the glass doors of the shop.

Finally, after an agonizing half hour, Rossi reached forward and dialed the store again, the phone on speaker. It took several long, tense rings for George to answer, and when he did, he sounded angry. "What!" he demanded, hatred not hidden in his voice.

"George, we're trying to help you. Those people in there are innocent. They've never hurt you." Rossi began slowly, not bothering with a greeting this time. They were all desperate to get Reid, Greg and the other hostages out of there safely.

"Liar." George spat.

"What do you mean?" Rossi asked, glancing worried at the others around him. What had he said that the man could possibly have taken as a lie?

"You aren't here to help me, and all of these people aren't innocent. You're only here because of Spencer Reid, FBI." George snapped coldly. "And Greg Sanders, CSI. _They _certainly aren't innocent,"

Rossi paled, and the others had to fight to contain their gasps of shock and worry. He knew that they were law enforcement. "I don't know what you're talking about," Rossi said, trying to hide the worry in his voice. "I don't know those people."

"It doesn't matter if you know them," George snarled, "They work for the government, for the _law, _and that makes them just as guilty as any of you."

"George, those two men, and the three women that you're holding hostage inside that store, they have never done anything to hurt you." Rossi said. "And they don't deserve this. Please, let them go and talk to me. I can help you if you'll let me. But you have to let the hostages go first."

"Melanie didn't deserve to die!" George shouted. "You can't help me, Agent Rossi. Just like you can't help these people inside. You didn't help my wife and you can't help them." His voice was strained and angry, full of bitter hate. Before Rossi could react or say anything else, a loud bang could be heard over the speaker and outside the store.

They looked up, toward the store, but all they could see was the edge of the counter and a couple of bookshelves now. The hostages were all out of site and the phone was behind the counter, out of their view.

There was a moment where time seemed to be frozen, and not one of the people in the small grouping around the phone was breathing or thinking at all. Then chaos seemed to erupt in each of their minds, wondering who had been shot and if they were okay. Rossi finally managed to find his voice and forced himself to remain calm. No matter what happened, they had to try to save anyone who could still be saved. "Was that a gun shot?" he asked slowly.

"Damn right!" George growled. "I wonder how it makes you feel, knowing one of your own is hurt and you can't do anything about it?" he taunted. He didn't wait for an answer. The line went dead and they all stared at the store front, hoping, praying that Reid and Greg were okay. Wondering who had been shot, what had just happened and why it was even happening in the first place.

* * *

For a full thirty minutes, Greg kept his breathing shallow and slow, feeling sweat on his face and blood on his arm. He tried to distract himself from the pain, but without Reid there to talk to him, it was difficult. He wondered again if the man had been telling him the truth about Reid still being alive. He didn't like the thought of his friend being killed, but the look in George's eyes told Greg that this man as capable of murder.

Vanessa, who was pale with fear but unharmed, just like the other two women, scooted closer to Greg after a few minutes, "Is he a friend?" she whispered, glancing at the angry form of their captor.

Greg slowly turned his eyes on the woman, frowning. "Who?" he asked.

"The FBI agent," she answered, looking anywhere but at the bloody gunshot on his shoulder.

"Yeah, he is." Greg answered. "We worked a case together a few months ago."

Vanessa nodded, "Do you know why this guy's doing this?" she asked after another few minutes.

"No," Greg said, his eyes focused on the ceiling again. At least talking to her was making it easier to ignore the throbbing, burning pain in his arm. He could still feel the bullet in his shoulder, and it felt hot and wrong and intrusive, sitting there, radiating pain. "But I'm sure the agents outside will figure it out. They're good at their job."

"Shut up!" An angry command from George silenced them. Greg closed his eyes for a moment, but forced himself to open them again. He couldn't pass out. He didn't know if he'd ever wake up again if he allowed himself to pass out.

* * *

Reid was only unconscious for about fifteen minutes, but it was long enough for him to panic. He tried to sit up, but he was sore and his head was throbbing. He wasn't sure how long he'd been out, but he was worried about the head injury. His thoughts wandered back to a cold basement where Michael Bradley had nearly beaten him to death. His head had throbbed like this then too… but that was where the similarities stopped. This unsub was different from Michael.

After a few minutes, he tried again to sit up, but his ribs protested. He was pretty sure none of them were broken, having felt that terrible pain before, but they were probably bruised. At least he was alive. It took him several tries but Reid eventually managed to push himself into a sitting position. He leaned his head against the counter and considered calling out to Greg to let him know that he was okay, but knew that it wasn't a good idea.

He shut his eyes for a second and opened them moments later when the ringing phone sent his head throbbing and reeling like never before. He winced as the phone gave several long peels before the man finally stalked over behind the counter and snatched it off the hook.

Reid tried to listen to the conversation, heard bits and pieces of what was said, and noted that George seemed to be growing more and more agitated by the minute. Then, he turned to glared at Reid, and Reid involuntarily cringed back before straightening himself as best as he could and staring right back into his eyes. He bit his lip when the gun was drawn, and flinched even before the bullet left the chamber.

* * *

George listened impatiently, angrily as the agent spoke to him. Making promises that weren't true, lying to him and trying to tell him that he was wrong. He gritted his teeth and scowled, his hand tightening around the hand gun. Finally, he snapped. He made his decision, and turned to face the young man on the floor near his feet.

He glared at him for a moment, surprised when the man actually met his stare. Then he pulled the gun out again and aimed, pulling the trigger back before the young man could do more than flinch. He smiled, satisfied with the silence on the other end of the line. He snarled an angry comment at the agent's question of whether or not the noise had been a gun and slammed the phone back onto the hook.

Agent Reid's blood was already seeping into the carpeted floor. The women had screamed and jumped at the sound of the shot, but the other man, the CSI, hadn't moved much at all, except to open his eyes wide with fear. George grinned again smiled down at the bleeding man on the floor. They would pay for not helping her when they'd had the chance. He would make sure of it.

**

* * *

**

E/N: See? I told you... I'm totally evil...

**I'm going to Hell, aren't I?**


	9. Opportunity

**A/N: Thanks so much for all the reviews, story alerts and favorite adds! :) You people are amazing... even though several of you told me that I was indeed evil and going to Hell... XD**

**WARNING: violence and blood**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

* * *

Ch. 9: Opportunity

Reid groaned, his hand clutching his abdomen, blood seeping between his fingers. He could feel the man's eyes on him, watching him closely. His own eyes were clamped tight, pain radiating through his body. He'd been shot in the knee before but this was worse. Much worse.

The man frowned, kneeling down next to him and pushing his hand off the wound, studying it. "Did it go all the way through?" he asked after a minute. There wasn't concern in his voice, just curiosity. Reid gritted his teeth and shook his head, wincing. He wasn't sure if he was up to talking at the moment.

George tilted his head to the side and stood back up, hearing the phone ringing yet again. His fist tightened, the gun still in his hand. He sat the gun down on the counter and yanked the phone off the hook after several long minutes of ringing. "Calling so soon?" he asked bitterly.

* * *

Greg's eyes widened at the sound of the gunshot. He couldn't have heard that right. No, there was no way that Reid had just been shot. It was just not possible. He strained his ears to hear what George was saying over the phone, but that just made things worse when he heard him say that one of 'their own' was hurt. Hurt was better than dead though… right?

That was only if Reid wasn't dead. He wished he could see his friend… He twisted his head again and bit his lip to fight back a moan of pain. Then he heard a low groan and George's voice asking if the bullet had went all the way through. He sighed, feeling a tiny amount of relief. At least Reid wasn't dead.

He leaned his head back against the counter again. His vision was getting blurry… He was sure that if he didn't get help soon he would pass out. He knew from the tiny puddle on the floor near his arm, he had lost a lot of blood already. Hopefully not too much.

* * *

"Call him back!" Hotch and Brass said at the same time. They knew that George was angry, and though they didn't want to make him any angrier, but they had to know who had been hurt and how badly. They had to know.

Rossi hesitated, his hand over the phone. "Are you sure, Hotch?" he asked, frowning. "You know what could happen if he gets angrier."

"He's already angry," Morgan said, his eyes wide and worried. "It can't get much worse… and we need to know what's going on in there. We need to know what happened."

"Call him back," Hotch said again, looking back toward the shop, worry barely visible in his eyes. That could have been Reid… or Greg. Both men he knew. One he considered to be almost a surrogate son at times. He had to know what had happened. He had to.

Hearing that gun shot over the phone… not knowing for sure what had really happened… it brought back painful memories for the unit chief. His fist tightened and he looked Rossi in the eyes, "We need to know."

Rossi nodded, hitting redial. The phone rang for several minutes before George finally answered. "Calling so soon?" he demanded, sounding just as angry as he had before.

"George, who did you just shoot?" Rossi asked slowly. "Those people inside with you are innocent. They've never done anything to hurt you… you don't even know them."

"Why does it matter who I shot?" George spat. "They're not all innocent, Agent Rossi. I already told you that. Stop lying to me."

"I'm not lying to you, George. Please, they haven't done anything… and if you did shoot someone… they need medical attention."

"I think they'll survive a little while longer," George said. "He was alive enough to move… thought the other one isn't looking so good…"

"The other one?" Rossi asked, worried. He glanced back up at Hotch and Brass.

"Yeah, the other one. They're both losing blood…"

"Both… you mean… you shot Agent Reid and CSI Sanders?" Rossi asked slowly, not willing to believe that. It just couldn't be true.

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean!" George snapped. They could practically feel his anger over the phone.

They glanced over at the store again out of reflex. Could he really be angrier than he'd been before? Hotch's hand's clenched involuntarily; Brass's hand tightened around the edge of the table the phone was on; Nick, Warrick and Morgan all locked their jaws; Sara, Prentiss, Catherine and JJ had similar looks of worry and fear in their eyes; Grissom was frowning, worriedly glancing back at the door of the shop again.

"Maybe I should make the damage more permanent!" George threatened.

* * *

Reid listened as George spoke to Rossi, and his eyes fell on the handgun sitting on the counter. He saw his opportunity to end this all… He bit his lip to keep from moaning and pushed himself slowly forward, wincing as pain ripped through his stomach.

He didn't actually have the streagnth or will to stand up, so he sort of crawled his way across the few feet across the floor, shoving himself up onto his knees. The gun was inches from his hand. He reached up and snatched it, thankful that George was still talking to Rossi. As soon as his fingers curled around the gun, he fell back and leaned against the counter, breathing deeply.

"Maybe I should make the damage more permanent!" George snapped. Reid tensed, panicked then. He watched as George unstrapped the rifle from his back without turning around. He fumbled with the revolver, his fingers never feeling so numb and useless.

George didn't hang the phone up, he just turned around to face Reid, his finger on the trigger. Reid swallowed, fear bright in his eyes. He forced his arm up, gun aimed at the man in front of him. Biting his lip, his shut his eyes as he saw George's finger tense and he pulled back on the trigger of the gun in his hands, hoping he wasn't too late.

The tiny shop rang out with the sound of yet another gun firing.

**

* * *

**

E/N: Ha! So, since you guys seem to think I'm evil already... how was that?

**PLEASE REVIEW! :)**


	10. Lucky?

**A/N: Thanks yet again to all of my reviewers! You people make me smile… all those threats of me suffering an eternity in Hell… I assure you, I am not INTENTIONALLY evil… or am I? Hmm… guess you'll never know. XD**

**I'm almost finished with this story I think… there will be a few more chapters of Reid and Greg in the hospital (and just for you, Touch Of The Wind, they will share a hospital room)**

**WARNING: violence and blood**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

* * *

Ch. 10: Lucky?

Spencer Reid had never believed in luck. It was just circumstance and statistical odds. But if he had to answer the question as to how he had gotten off a shot before his attacker had that day in the book store, the only real answer he could give would be luck.

His fingers, numb and unsteady, wrapped around the gun, his heart pumping much too fast inside his thin chest, and gripped the trigger. He watched in growing fear and dread, as George turned around, his hand tightly clutching the assault rifle in his hands. Reid's nerveless fingers instinctively tightened around the gun and then a loud boom erupted in the store.

He winced, waiting for bullets to hit him. When nothing happened, he slowly opened his eyes and saw the unsub on the floor, eyes empty of any emotion for the first time since he'd entered. He blinked, not believing what he was seeing. He was sure that the odds were completely against him. In fact, he knew they were. But he also knew that nothing was impossible… just improbable.

Dropping the revolver, the little streagnth he had leaving him, he shut his eyes. After a minute, he heard someone talking, but they sounded distant. He thought at first that he was about to pass out, so his eyes shot open. No one was there. Was he hallucinating?

There it was again… a half angry, very desperate voice. He couldn't quite make out what they were saying though. Then he remembered the phone. George hadn't hung the phone up when he'd turned around. That must be Rossi's voice then.

He tried to move, to sit back up and grab the phone that was now dangling from the hook, but it hurt so much and he was tired. Just getting the streagnth to grab the gun had drained him. Taking a deep breathing he winced again and called out "Vanessa?" as loudly as he could.

He had to try a few times before the woman heard him. "Agent Reid?" she half whispered, sounding terrified.

"H-he's gone… the phone… answer… need to talk to them…" His words were faint and broken, but after a short pause, Vanessa stood and hurried around to the counter, gasping in shock when she saw the two men on the floor, one obviously dead.

She took a second to collect herself before snatching the phone up and putting it to her ear. "Hello?"

* * *

Greg winced involuntarily when the shot rang off. His eyes shut and he tried to stop himself from breathing so quickly as pain shot through his arm once again. He ignored the pain. The last words George had said were repeating themselves in his mind _"Maybe I should make the damage more permanent!"_

He couldn't have done that. No. There was absolutely no way that Reid was dead. It just couldn't be. But pictures were already being conjured up in his mind of Reid lying dead on the floor, his eyes wide open and empty. It couldn't be… why would he do that? There was no reason to kill a man like Spencer Reid. But then again, there was no reason to hold five people inside a book store hostage.

After a minute or two he thought he heard Reid's voice, but maybe he was just imagining that. Then he heard it again and again. Was he starting to hallucinate? Was he close to dying already? When Vanessa, sitting next to him still, looked up, he realized it _had_ been Reid's voice. So he wasn't dead. The thought brought a smile to his face, if a pained smile, until he again thought of how weak his friend sounded.

"H-he's gone… the phone… answer… need to talk to them…" Reid choked out. Some words seemed have been lost in the pain. Vanessa took a second to stand up, seeming unsure of what to do. Then she hurried around the counter when she realized that George was no longer standing there.

* * *

For a full thirty seconds everyone standing around the phone was frozen. There was simply no way that they had heard that correctly. George wouldn't just kill one of them… but they all knew he would. They'd already realized what the man was capable of. But none of them were willing to believe it.

Finally, Rossi spoke up, his voice strained. He had never had such a hard time holding back his emotions. He'd always prided himself on being able to take a step back from a situation and look at the facts, not the feelings. This was different. Reid could be dead. Greg could be dead. And either way, a man that he knew had been killed. "George," he said, not loud at first. "George what just happened? Did you shoot someone? George!" still he got no answer.

He started shouting then, desperate to know what had happened. "George, is someone dead! Did you kill them! Please, Mr. Hanley, answer me!" He kept yelling into the phone, angry now.

Sara was fighting back tears. This wasn't happening. No. It just wasn't. Greg was one of her closest friends and Reid had been a good kid. Why would something like this happen to either one of them. It wouldn't… it couldn't. Just … no.

Catherine was frozen, stunned. Was that really a gunshot? No… but a voice in the back of her mind was screaming at her that it was. That Greg had just been killed. Or Reid… either way, it made her insides twist with desperation and sorrow. She could see them both in her mind's eye… lying in a bloody pool… dead.

JJ was crying, she didn't even care which one of them had been killed… she wasn't sure if she wanted to know. Either way, an innocent young man that she considered a friend was gone. Prentiss gripping herself, like she was trying to hold herself together. She wasn't crying yet but the tears were about to well over. She couldn't believe what she'd just heard. It was utterly unthinkable.

Morgan, Nick and Warrick all had the same look of fear and denial on their faces. The sound was still ringing in their ear. It couldn't be true, George was lying. He'd just shot into the air or something. Reid and Greg were fine. They had to be. They had to.

Grissom wasn't even thinking any more. He couldn't even begin to process the meaning of that sound… had it been a gunshot or a bomb? It had seemed so much louder than a simple gunshot… maybe someone had set a bomb off somewhere and that was the sound. Maybe George hadn't even fired the gun and they were all imagining it.

Brass's face was pale. He'd heard guns go off so often in his line of work that he thought the sound would never phase him again. He had been wrong. That sound would haunt him for the rest of his life, he was sure of it.

Hotch's face, normally a mask of impenetrable stone, was white. His eyes were wide, tears that he would never have let fall under other circumstances were pricking and burning behind the eye lids. His tight scowl was gone, replaced with a half open, devastated gasp. Reid could _not _be dead. He couldn't comprehend someone else he cared about being shot to death over the phone while he stood helplessly listening. It simply couldn't be real.

Suddenly, they were all pulled out of their mental turmoil when a woman's voice answered Rossi's desperate yells. "Hello?"


	11. Out of the Woods?

**A/N: Thanks yet again to all the people who reviewed! I'm sorry I didn't update yesterday! I had a serious case of writer's block on both this story and "A Place To Call Home" which took longer than usual to update. So sorry for the wait…**

**WARNING: violence and blood… mostly blood from here on out… and not too much. The violence is pretty much over. I think I did a fairly good job hurting poor Reid and Greg, but not TOO good of a job, since they're alive… (just the way I like them… lol)**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

* * *

Ch. 11: Out of the Woods Yet?

"Hello?" a female voice broke through the tension of the moment.

Rossi frowned, "Who am I speaking to?" he asked slowly, curious and worried.

"This is Vanessa Clearwater," the shaky woman answered. "You need to get an ambulance here now… two men were shot… and … and I think another one is dead."

"Ok," Rossi said, motioning wildly for someone to make sure that paramedics had been called. "Vanessa, I need you to stay calm alright… where is George?"

"Who?" she sounded confused now.

"The man who attacked you," Rossi clarified, realizing that the hostages didn't know the man's name.

"He's the one that's dead," Vanessa answered after a moment. "At least I think he is… I don't really want to check. There's and FBI agent that's been shot and another man… I don't know their names, but neither of them look good. They've lost a lot of blood."

"Are you telling me that the man who held you hostage is dead?" Rossi asked, fingers tightening around the edge of the table. "He's not a threat?"

"Yes… I think the FBI agent shot him," Vanessa said.

"Thank you," the relief in his voice and on the others' faces was a drastic change to the devastated looks and insanely depressed, incoherent thoughts that had been running through their minds.

Brass turned to the agents, "Are we going in?" he asked, hopefully.

Hotch nodded, "Yes. Get a few SWAT agents and let's go." He was already drawing his gun - purely as a precaution. After being offered this sliver of hope, he refused to let go.

Prentiss, Morgan, Rossi, Brass and JJ followed. Grissom and the rest of the CSIs exchanged a glance before following them as well, knowing that normally they would probably not be allowed to enter the building. But this was far from a normal situation.

Hotch didn't even glance at them as SWAT broke the door down. Michelle and Taylor, sitting farthest from the door, stifled screams and flinched as the door was forced open. Vanessa was the only person standing, the phone still to her ear. On the floor, leaning against the counter was Greg, his eyes half closed. He looked close to passing out. There was a bloody make-shift bandage wrapped around his left arm, and a small pool of blood on the floor near it. His breathing was labored.

"Greg!" Warrick gasped as his eyes fell on his friend.

Sara and Nick knelt immediately next to the young man, checking his pulse and trying to keep him from passing out, reassuring him that he was going to be alright. All Greg said was, "R-Reid… help him."

Hotch's eyes scanned the rest of the room that they could see as they edged their way farther inside. There was no sign of George or Reid anywhere. Not until they made it around the counter.

There, they saw George lying on his back, a gunshot wound to the head. His eyes were wide open and empty. There was no question as to whether or not the man was dead. Reid was sitting not far from him, his eyes closed. He was breathing erratically, a hand clutching his stomach. The hand was covered in blood.

"Oh my God!" JJ gasped and turned away, tears returning to her eyes. She was ecstatic beyond belief that Reid was alive and well, but he was so pale, and all that blood…

Morgan and Hotch were kneeling beside Reid, urging him to stay awake, begging him to open his eyes and talk to them. To say anything. His eyes slowly opened and he smiled, "H-Hotch…" he choked. "Mor-g-gan." His words were slurred, and his eyes unfocused, but at least he was still conscious.

"Are any of you hurt?" Rossi asked, looking away from Reid's body and to Vanessa.

"Uh… I got hit in the head with the rifle," Vanessa said, holding a hand gingerly to the slightly bloody and already bruised patch on her head. "I'm fine though."

"You could have a concussion," Prentiss said, leading the stiff woman away from Reid and George. "Just come sit down and relax. Try not to pass out, alright?"

"What about you two?" Rossi asked, addressing Taylor and Michelle. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Taylor answered. "We're fine."

"What the hell are the medics?" Hotch demanded, his hand bloody from putting pressure on Reid's wound. Nick was similarly sitting next to Greg, trying to stem as much of the blood flow as he possibly could.

Suddenly the sound of sirens pierced the shop and they all breathed a sigh of relief as paramedics rushed in.

* * *

Morgan road with Reid to the hospital, and Nick with Greg. It was a chaotic ride. Technicians were spouting medical jargon and passing instruments to each other, trying to stem the bleeding as much as possible and keep Reid breathing while trying to get him to hospital.

It was a similar situation with Greg, who had lost far more blood than Reid had and was very near passing out from blood loss already, despite the fact that Reid's wound was in a far more perilous spot.

The two men were at a loss when they watched their friends being rushed off to surgery.

"How are they?" Brass asked, as the others entered the waiting room.

"Not good… they've lost a lot of blood both have labored breathing. They were just taken to surgery." Nick explained, looking nervously back at the doors where Greg and Reid had been pushed away. They had to have gotten there in time. He felt a strange tightening in his chest. He couldn't deal with it if one of them died.

"Has anyone called Garcia?" JJ asked suddenly, her teary eyes falling on Morgan.

"Oh God," Morgan breathed, nearly smacking himself in the head. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and walked outside for some privacy. Garcia was going to kill him…

* * *

"We're losing him," the surgeon said, eyes falling on the heart monitor. Then after another moment of silence, "It ricocheted into the liver." His face was pale. "He's bleeding out internally…"

"Can we repair it?" Another surgeon asked, eyes lifting from the patient on the table briefly.

"I don't -" He was interrupted by a high keening sound as the line of the machine suddenly flattened out. "He's flat lining!"

* * *

**E/N: So, I'm guessing that after that, anyone who didn't hate me before now does, right? … … what, are you seriously going to give me the silent treatment? HEY! *ducks as grenade is thrown* It's not MY fault this is happening! Blame my twisted imagination, but not ME!**

**Please review, even if you hate me now… :)**


	12. Spontaneous Human Combustion

**A/N: :3 Awe! I loves all the people who reviewed… you make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside with those threats… I'm truly sorry for that last chapter… I know how much I HATE evil cliffhangers… and that's why I keep writing them. To annoy readers… lol… JK**

**WARNING: hmmm… I'm thinking…. Oh, wait, I know! A very, very ticked off Garcia. I'd be wary of flying projectiles and possible severed heads coming your way…**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

* * *

Ch. 12: Spontaneous Human Combustion

Morgan chewed his lip as he waited for Garcia to answer… He didn't even want to imagine the look on her face when he told her.

"Derek Morgan," she already sounded angry, "What the hell took you so long to call me? I have been sitting here, waiting and worrying and wondering and a whole lot of other unpleasant 'w' words. You'd better have one damn good excuse." She warned, fire glistening in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Baby Girl… but I'm calling you now… We had some, uh, issues with the hostage situation and everything was kind of tense."

"Tense as in what? Is Reid ok? Morgan, don't tell me my baby's been hurt…" Garcia warned, now on the verge of tears.

"Reid's going to be fine… I hope." Morgan added the last part slowly, quietly. He still didn't know exactly how to tell her.

"You hope? What happened? Tell me right now, Morgan or I swear to God -"

"Alright, momma, calm down!" Morgan interrupted. "We're at the hospital right now and -"

"Hospital? How in the world did you manage to get to the hospital and not call me to tell me what was going on? Did you people forget about me?"

"No, Baby Girl, we could never forget about you… it's just that… well, there were some shots fired inside the store and we were worried that someone had been killed. Luckily, the unsub was the one who died, but Reid and Greg were both shot. They're in surgery now."

"Shot…" Garcia's voice was faint, her face pale. "My little genius was shot?" she sounded like she was far away. Then after a few minutes, "Is he going to be ok? Is Greg going to be ok?"

"Greg lost a lot of blood, and the bullet might've hit an artery, but a transfusion should fix the blood loss and like I said, they're in surgery… Reid wasn't looking too good earlier, but he's going to be fine." Morgan said with conviction. There was no way he could believe anything else. "He's having some trouble breathing and he lost a lot of blood, but the surgery should fix a lot of that."

After a brief pause, Garcia spoke again, this time sounding even angrier than she had before, "So, Reid was _shot _and you didn't bother to call me?" she demanded. "You thought he could've been dead and you just decided not to let me know? Derek Morgan, how could you do that to me? How could you put me through the hell of not knowing!"

"We didn't want you to worry, Baby Girl," Morgan tried to soothe her. "We didn't know for sure and didn't want you to be worried over something that could be nothing."

Garcia huffed, "Well… you're still not forgiven," she cautioned, "But for now I'll take that answer. I'm getting on the next plane out of here."

Morgan laughed, shaking his head. At least she hadn't combusted; he expected that. "Alright, Baby Girl, I'll see you when you get here."

* * *

"Clear!" the surgeon nearly snapped. It had been almost a minute since Spencer Reid's heart had stopped, flat lining the machine across from him. Another jolt of electricity jerked the prone body in an arch off the operating table and miraculously, the monitor began beeping again with a slow and steady pace. The surgical staff actually cheered before turning back to the abdominal cavity where they were trying to find the bullet that was still inside.

It wasn't hard to get the bullet out… what was going to be more difficult was repairing the damage done to the liver and stemming the flow of blood. Thankfully, the bullet hadn't pierced the organ, simply grazed it, but it was enough to cause massive internal bleeding that could still prove fatal if they didn't stop it in time.

The surgeon began barking orders at the nurses, his eyes focused on the young man's liver. He wasn't about to let him die on his watch.

* * *

It seemed like an eternity before two haggard looking surgeons finally emerged from the OR. The agents immediately surrounded them when the names "Greg Sanders" and "Spencer Reid" were called.

"Are any of you next of kin?" one of the doctors asked.

Hotch scowled and flashed his badge in the doctor's face, "SSA Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid's supervisor. He doesn't have any next of kin here… and neither does Greg Sanders."

Both doctor's looked reluctant to talk to them at first, but Hotch's glare was something even the most experience doctor would shrink back from.

"Greg Sanders was shot in the left shoulder. Luckily, the bullet didn't hit an artery and the muscle and tissue damage is minimal. A few months and he should be back to normal," the doctor explained. "He lost a massive amount of blood, which we have begun to replace it with an IV."

They all seemed to breath a little easier at that news; Greg was alright.

"He's being moved to the ICU for monitoring, just incase something does go wrong," the doctor added.

"Spencer Reid," the other surgeon began, "Was shot in the abdomen, just under the rib cage. The bullet ricocheted into the chest cavity and also grazed the liver, causing massive amounts of internal bleeding. We lost him once on the table and he's been put on a ventilator until we're sure he can breath on his own. He's being moved to the ICU as we speak, and due to the uniqueness of this situation, he'll be put in the same room with Mr. Sanders."

"He's going to be ok though, right?" JJ asked, her face pale. Reid had to make it. He just had to.

"We removed the bullet and repaired the tear on the liver, so I don't see any reason for him to not pull through. Unless for some reason he can't breath on his own by tomorrow, I don't think there'll be any problems." the doctor assured them.

Another sigh of relief, though this one was tinged with worry.

"Can we see them?" Catherine asked hopefully, though she thought she already knew the answer the question.

"I'm afraid not. They're both still sedated… It would be better if you waited until tomorrow." One of the surgeons answered.

Feeling sort of let down, the two teams nodded and turned away. They would normally go back to the hotel (or home in the CSIs' cases) but they weren't sure if they could actually take being alone to deal with everything that was happening. So, they all fell into chairs in the waiting room and sat in silence comforted by the mere presence of the others.

* * *

**E/N: So how was that? Better? It wasn't a cliffhanger so it better've been better! (jk)**

**Please reivew!**


	13. Haunting Images

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorite and alerted this! You guys are amazing. I actually planned on ending this story at around chapter ten, but here I am on chapter 13... Guess my plan failed, huh? I'm not sure how many more chapters it'll be. At least one… depends on my imagination :)**

**WARNING: hmmm…. Let me think a minute… some spoilers for "100", Reid and Greg are hurt, ICU should be interesting… let me know if I'm rambling pointlessly… lol**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

* * *

Ch. 13: Haunting Images

The teams left the hospital that night disappointed. They'd each tried and failed to convince the doctors to let them see their friends before the morning, but finally the doctor pretty much ordered them to leave and get some rest or he wouldn't trust them around the patients the next day.

Garcia had arrived a few hours after they left the hospital and went straight to Morgan's hotel room demanding an update.

"We haven't seen either of them yet, Baby Girl." Morgan said tiredly, running a hand over his face.

"Why are those doctors being so stubborn?" she muttered. "I want to see my baby boy!"

Morgan laughed, "C'mon, Garcia, you know Reid's gonna be fine. We can see him in the morning. Everything's going to be fine, alright? He's been through worse."

"I don't find that comforting." Garcia muttered. "But if I have to wait, I'll wait. Good Night, my handsome Knight." she smiled gently and yawned. The flight had seemed to take forever. "Make sure to wake me in the morning if I'm not downstairs."

"You know I will," Morgan assured her, giving her a reassuring hug before returning to his bed.

* * *

Hotch wasn't sleeping, he was sitting up staring down at a photograph taken years ago, when Gideon had still been on the team. It was a picture of him, Prentiss, Reid, Gideon, Morgan and Haley, holding Jack tightly in her arms. He ran a longing finger over the face of his ex-wife, feeling guilty all over again for her death.

He couldn't close his eyes at the moment, knowing that he would see her body lying broken on the floor of his bedroom again. Or he'd see Reid, lying in a pool of blood in that bookstore. Either way, it was an image he didn't want or need at the moment. He could still hear the sound of the gun being fired over the phone.

He wasn't the kind of person to ever admit to being scared of something, but that noise sent chills through his body. He had nearly been paralyzed with fear when he'd heard it. It was like what Foyett had done to Haley all over again. He knew he wouldn't have been able to handle it if Reid had died. He wouldn't have been able to face another day in the job that had cost him his marriage, his wife, his family, and then a man he considered a friend and son. It would have been far too much.

He lay the picture aside and leaned back against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling for a few minutes before finally removing the gun from his belt and the other from the ankle holster and pulling the blankets back. He left the light on, however, and still didn't shut his eyes as he settled down onto the pillows. The images he was seeing while awake were bad enough.

* * *

JJ sat on her bed, tears finally drying. She scrubbed at the few that still remained and smiled down at the butterfly pendant Reid had given her for her last birthday. He was her best friend… he had to be ok. She kept remembering what he had looked like on the floor of that bookstore, bloody and beaten. She couldn't help but think of the last time they'd been to Vegas and what Michael had done to him. But this was different. Michael hadn't actually wanted to kill Reid. George had. She shut her eyes and lay down on top of the covers, still to awake and scared to actually go to sleep.

* * *

Prentiss was pacing in her room, to anxious to even sit down. She could hear Morgan in the room next door doing the same thing. Garcia had shown up a little while ago and she'd heard their conversation… it had only made her more worried though. How could this kind of thing keep happening to Reid? It wasn't like he'd done anything. He was probably one of the kindest, nicest people she knew. There had been a few times when he'd snapped at her sure, but that was only from stress and what the team all knew was drugs, even if they never said it aloud.

He didn't deserve this and yet, it kept happening. She sighed and fell into a chair. There was little chance of her sleeping that night. She couldn't close her eyes without seeing Reid or Greg dead. She knew that they were alive and in the hospital, but her mind seemed intent of telling her differently.

* * *

Rossi turned the page of the book he was reading and stared down at the words. They were starting to blur together. Sighing, he shoved the book away angrily. He had hoped reading would get his mind off of the image of Reid and Greg lying on the floor of that book store. He had never felt so damn helpless in all of his life. He'd seen bad things before, things even worse than what happened, but somehow this was different. Was it just because he knew them? Reid had been hurt before, and yes he'd been worried, but never had he felt like there was nothing he could do.

In his mind, he knew the reason was because of the sound of the shots… of being right there, so close to the friends who were in danger, and yet unable to really help them. Hearing that gun fire over the phone was like a bullet to his own heart. He had been terrified that Reid or Greg had been killed. It would've been his fault if they had, even though he knew logically it wasn't. He had been the negotiator, it was his job to talk George down. He hadn't done that. He knew if Hotch or Morgan or anyone else on the team had made that argument he would've told them they were crazy, but he couldn't help but feel it was in some way his fault that Reid and Greg were now in the hospital.

* * *

Morgan had tried sitting still on the bed, but found his legs were far too restless. Reid was like a brother to him, a younger brother. It was his job to protect him, but damn it, how was he supposed to do that if Reid kept putting himself in such dangerous situations? He'd nearly had a heart attack when that gun had been fired over the phone. He had known, just known that his little brother had been killed. And hearing that he was alive had been the best news in the world at the time. Reality was starting to kick in again, once they'd left the hospital. He kept seeing it over and over in his mind… Reid. On the floor. Dead.

* * *

Garcia fidgeted tiredly after she left Morgan's room. She was pretty sure that she was still in shock after hearing him tell her that Reid had been shot. She didn't really want believe it. She wiped away the tears that were making her mascara run and shook her head. Reid was _not _going to die. He was going to brilliantly come through just like he always did. She wouldn't even consider any other option.

* * *

Grissom sat in his office, not willing to go home and feign sleep. His glasses were down at the far end of his nose and he was trying to read an entomology book, but he would only get a few words in before the image of Greg, shot and bleeding to death on the floor of the book store, would enter his mind. He'd wanted so desperately to believe that it wasn't real, that the gun had never been fired, but it had been and he couldn't make the image go away. He remembered the last time Greg had been in the hospital, nearly beaten to death, and shuddered. He couldn't let something like this happen again… His eyes wandered from the page again, and frowned, closing the book and pinching the bridge between his eyes and nose. There had to be a way to get those pictures to go away.

* * *

Catherine stood in the doorway to Lindsey's room, listening to her daughter breathing. It was the only thing in the world that could calm her frayed nerves at the moment. She twisted her hands together and tried not to think about what had happened earlier that day. About Reid and Greg being shot and nearly killed. They would go and see them tomorrow and talk to them and everything would be alright. She knew it would be. It had to be.

* * *

Sara poured another glass and stared at it for nearly a minute before drinking. She was trying very hard not to think about how pale and weak Reid and Greg had looked on the floor to the book store, or being loaded into the ambulances. She could shut her eyes and see it all perfectly clear. It was like the image was stamped into her mind. She tipped the glass up in her hand and downed the rest of the drink. She wondered if the pictures would haunt her forever as she poured another glass.

* * *

Warrick pressed his lips together as he sat outside the casino in his car. He wasn't going to go in, but he couldn't just sit at home and 'sleep'. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel. He had tried sleeping and every time he started to drift off the sleep he would see Greg lying in a bloody pool on the floor. There was no way he was getting any actual sleep tonight, so he'd gotten in his car and drove to the casino. Now he sat there, staring into the brightly lit area, wondering what he was even doing. Still not ready to sleep, Warrick turned the ignition in the car and pulled out of the parking lot, driving around randomly.

* * *

Nick leaned his head against the back of the couch and turned the music up louder to block out the noise of the gunshots in his mind. It helped a little, but doubted there was anything that would help him get the image of Reid and Greg looking so close to death, lying on the floor in puddles of blood. Greg had been like a younger brother to him for years, an annoying little brother yes, but a brother all the same. And Reid was a good friend who he knew had already been through too much. He couldn't handle the idea of either one of them dying. Scowling as the gunshot reverberated in his mind again, he turned the volume up a couple more notches.

* * *

Greg woke up before Reid did, and winced as pain shot through his shoulder. It wasn't nearly as bad as it had been before. He glanced down at the IV in his hand and realized he was on morphine… he was in the hospital. He didn't really remember getting to the hospital, but if he was here that meant he was alive. That was good.

He glanced over at Reid, who he'd noticed was on the bed next to his and cringed inwardly. He didn't look so good. He was still hooked up to a ventilator and there was a nasty bruise forming on the side of his head. Greg wondered if the guy had hit Reid. He wished his friend would wake up so that he was sure Reid was alive, but he was sedated and on a ventilator, so the chances of him waking up and talking to Greg anytime soon were slim. At least he was alive. That was all Greg could really ask for after everything that had happened in the store.

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**E/N: Anyone else notice that this chapter was the longest I've written for this story so far, nearly twice as long as the others… writing from EVERYONE'S POV made it longer (well, everyone except Reid who's still sedated. Not much to really write there I guess…)**

**Hope you guys liked it!**

**Please review! :)**


	14. Visitors

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! I'm finally getting to the end of this… but I don't think this is the last chapter… Reid's got to wake up, I'm gonna do that here, and then one or two more chapters about the recovery and an epilogue. In short, there will be at least two more chapters after this one… I think…**

**WARNING: you can't really expect me to have a warning for every chapter, can you? 'Cause I can't think of anything…**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

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Ch. 14: Visitors

Greg was awake that morning when the doctors finally removed the ventilator from Reid and waited anxiously, making sure he could breath on his own. Once the were positive that the steady rise and fall of his chest would remain constant they left and Greg immediately began talking, trying to wake Reid up. He was bored and needed someone to talk to.

"Hey, Reid, can you hear me?" he asked, surprised at how weak his voice sounded. "Reid? Spencer?"

The door opened slowly and three people came in - that was all the doctor would allow. Grissom, Agent Hotchner and a plump blond woman he remembered was named Garcia entered slowly. Once they saw Greg was awake they were all surrounding his bed, except for Garcia who stood by Reid's side and held his hand tightly, placing a small bouquet of flowers with a card reading 'Get well soon' on the table next to his bed.

"Greg, are you alright?" Grissom spoke first, looking anxiously at the young man on the bed.

Greg smiled as much as he could, "Sure," he said, "As good as a guy can be after being held hostage and shot in a bookstore by some psycho."

Grissom smiled lightly at the young man, "Good… I called your parents… they're going to be here tomorrow, I think."

Greg groaned, "Why'd you do that? Haven't I suffered enough?"

Grissom just smiled and shook his head. Greg turned to Hotch, "What about Reid's parents?" he asked. "Did you call them?"

Hotch nodded slowly, he hadn't called his mother, because he wasn't sure if she needed to be notified of what had happened just yet, but he had called Reid's father that morning. "I called his dad, he said he would be here as soon as he could, but he'd got some meetings this morning that he can't cancel. He was supposed to meet Reid this afternoon… Has he woken up yet?"

Greg shook his head, "No. The doctors took him off the breathing machine a few hours ago, but he's been asleep since I woke up."

Garcia, from across the room, frowned. "Have you tried waking him?" she asked. She wanted to see him open his eyes. He was so pale it was hard for her to believe he was actually alive just lying still like that.

"Yeah, a few times. But I can't do much from the bed and he's got to be sedated anyway." Greg answered.

Garcia huffed for a moment and then, took Reid's hand more tightly in hers and said, "Spencer Reid if you don't wake up soon, I'm going to put every single photo I've ever Photoshopped of you up on my Facebook wall, and I promise you won't like them."

The young man on the bed didn't wake but Garcia could've sworn she saw his hand twitch. "That's it, Reid, wake up." She squeezed his hand gently and shook his shoulder, one of the few parts on him that wasn't bruised, bandaged or bleeding.

After a few moments, the young agent's eyes began to flutter. And then, with a huge wince, Reid completely opened his eyes and they focused almost immediately on Garcia. "Hey, baby boy," she grinned. "How are ya feeling?"

Reid blinked a few times, still feeling the effects of the sedatives, "Tired."

Garcia laughed, "Well you shouldn't be… you've been asleep for more than seven hours."

Reid laughed, "Technically, I wasn't asleep. I was sedated for surgery… or didn't anyone tell you that I was shot?"

She frowned, "Yes, they did tell me… after you were already in surgery. And didn't I tell you, the last time you were in the hospital, that you were never allowed to ever get yourself hurt, ever again?"

Reid tried to shrug, but pain bolted up through his abdomen, "I didn't ask the guy to shoot me, Garcia."

Garcia laughed and smoothed his hair out of his face, "Of course you didn't. You're just a magnet for trouble."

Greg laughed from his bed, "I'll say," he muttered. "He even dragged me into it this time."

Reid rolled his eyes, "Yes, it was _my _fault that we were held hostage by a psychotic unsub in a small bookstore."

"Well, I'm certainly going to blame you," Greg said with a grin.

"Maybe we should leave these two to their argument.," Garcia suggested.

* * *

Hotch smiled, actually smiled, and nodded, "I'll let Morgan, Nick and Warrick know that they'll have to wait a little while before coming to visit them."

Everyone from their teams had visited them at least twice and Reid and Greg were tired. They figured it was probably an effect of the recent surgeries and drugs… something Reid had been concerned about, but Morgan and Hotch had both assured him that they would never let anything happen.

It was almost four o'clock in the afternoon when a tentative knock at the door caused the men, who had been lightly sleeping, to jerk awake and frown. A tall man with slightly graying hair entered the room and smiled slightly at Reid, "Hey, Spencer." his father said slowly.

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E/N: Eh, so I still have a few cliffhangers left in me, huh? At least this wasn't as bad as the earlier one though… Sorry this chapter wasn't as long as the others… It's not too short I hope…

**Please review!**


	15. Conversation with Dad

**A/N: WOOHOO! It's almost the end! If everything goes as planned, the next chapter is the last chapter… if everything doesn't go as planned… I'm screwed I guess…**

**Thanks to every single person who reviewed, commented, favorited and alerted this!**

**WARNING: Hmmm… if I think of something I'll put it up here… but mostly, I think this chapter will be Reid and his father talking and stuff…**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

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Ch. 15: Conversation With Dad

Reid blinked, staring at his father in shock. Hotch had told him that his father had been notified but he never expected him to actually show up at the hospital. After all, it had taken him nearly two weeks to get enough courage to visit him the last time he'd been hurt. "Dad?" Reid sounded even more shocked than he looked. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, Agent Hotchner called and told me what happened yesterday. Since you couldn't make our lunch, I decided to come see you here instead. Why waste the time we have, you know?"

Reid nodded slowly, "There's a chair right there," he said nodding to the chair next to his bed. "You remember Greg, right?"

William nodded, seeming to notice Greg for the first time. "Of course," he said. "I'd say it was nice to see you again, but considering the circumstances…"

Greg laughed, "Yeah, not exactly the ideal place for a reunion." he said.

William nodded, glancing back at Reid, "No, it's not." he murmured. "Your boss said that you were shot in the stomach, and the bullet hit your liver."

"I'm fine, Dad." Reid assured him. "The doctors fixed everything. I should be out of here in a couple of weeks. Maybe."

"I'm not so sure I like your job anymore," William said after a moment. "I'm proud of you for doing it but from what I've learned these last couple of months, you seem to get hurt a lot."

"I wasn't even working when this happened, Dad. I was here to find out how Michael's trial ended, and to see you and Mom." Reid said, shaking his head. He and his father had talked about his job a few times in the past few months, and despite the fact that his dad had learned about several of the traumas he'd suffered on the job, he still didn't really know the bigger picture of what his son had suffered.

"True," William nodded. "I heard about the trial on the news. Michael's sentencing is supposed to be next week, are you going to be here for that?"

"I don't know, it depends on how long I'm in the hospital. And even if I am, I can't exactly go, what with the gunshot wound and everything." Reid attempted to joke, but when he laughed, he winced and wished he hadn't.

"Right, of course." William said, clasping his hands together and looking down for a moment.

Greg watched the two of them and sighed. They were very awkward around each other, which made him sad. Even after two months of communication, they still weren't very comfortable around each other. "Hey, there's another cripple over here," he said, breaking the awkward silence.

Reid glanced over at his friend, trying not to laugh as he saw the look on Greg's face. "You were shot in the shoulder." he said, smiling. "I died yesterday."

Greg rolled his eyes, "You'll do anything to get attention, won't you?"

William raised a brow, listening to them talk. Shaking his head, he smiled. "You really are a magnet for trouble, like Agent Morgan said, aren't you?"

Reid frowned, "Dad, you should never listen to anything Morgan says. He can't be trusted. He takes too much pleasure in annoying me."

William clasped his son on the shoulder briefly, "I'm glad you found such good friends, Spencer."

Reid shrugged, "They're more than friends, really. We're a family."

"I noticed," William said, a look of guilt passing over his face. "You deserve that… I wish I could've done my job and given it to you when you really needed it."

Reid looked down, chewing on his lip. "I wish you had too, Dad. But we can't change the past. I'd rather not talk about it right now."

William nodded, "I understand." he said. He pressed his lips together again, trying to think of something to say. Another awkward silence later and Greg once again spoke up, "So, how've you two been getting along?"

William glanced over at Reid and turned to Greg, "I went to Quantico a few weeks ago and stayed with Spencer for a couple of days."

"And we've talked on the phone." Reid interjected.

Greg nodded, "Good. I think you two should start spending more time together."

Reid raised a brow and stared at his friend, "Since when did you become my life coach?"

Greg grinned, "Since I got shot in a bookstore while being held hostage with you." he answered.

Reid rolled his eyes, "I think I finally met the person more irritating than Morgan." he muttered.

Greg grinned, "You know you love me." he laughed.

Reid shook his head, "Whatever helps you sleep at night,"

William laughed, "You two sound like brothers," he said with a smile. "Didn't you just meet a few months ago?"

"I guess we're just that awesome." Greg said with a wide grin on his face.

The three of them laughed again and somehow the tension in the room broke. Reid and his father talked easily. It wasn't quite a pain free conversation, but it was easiest conversation that they'd had in the past couple of months. Greg smiled, feeling like there was hope for them after all.

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E/N: Eh, a little short, sorry about that. I'm not a huge fan of William Reid, but I do believe in second chances, and since I wrote William as a man who feels guilty about what he did, and who wants to fix it, how can I make Reid so bitter that he'd never even try? I highly doubt that their relationship will ever be… easy, but I do think that if something like this ever did happen, the two of them would at least be able to move past the guilt and bad feelings and into this more awkward and tense friendship-like relationship…

**Anyway, please review! Next chapter will probably be the end… I think I'm gonna miss this story…**


	16. Going Home

**A/N: LAST CHAPTER! I think I'm gonna miss this story… :( Thanks so much for every single review, comment, favorites add and story alert add! I am thrilled people liked this story!**

**WARNING: eh, … I'm trying to think, but I've seriously got no clue…**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

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Ch. 16: Going Home

Reid leaned over carefully, wincing as pain bolted through his abdomen and tossed yet another shirt into his bag. He had never been so ready to leave the hospital since his last stay, after he and his father had been rescued from Michael's basement. "Need some help?" Greg asked from across the room. He was fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, his left arm held tight to his body with a sling.

"No, I got it." Reid said, wincing again as he zipped the bag. He had to be careful which way he twisted, otherwise it felt like he was being ripped open all over again.

"Who's coming to pick you up?" Greg asked, still trying to button the last button his shirt with his one good hand. After another moment he gave up and left it undone.

"Morgan, I think. Or Hotch." Reid answered, sitting down on the uncomfortable bed. He was so happy to get out of this place, again, that he wasn't even really aware of the stiff sheet or the hard mattress. He just wished that whoever was coming would hurry up.

His dad had come back to visit him in the hospital a few times in the last couple of weeks. Usually they were stiff and awkward around each other, and Greg was the one who would break the tension. Morgan had been there during one of William's visits and had found it difficult to hide his hostility towards the man. He knew what it was like to grow up without a father, but his father had been killed… Reid's father had just left him. He could imagine a father leaving his son willingly the way William had and it made him almost as angry as the people who took advantage of children. But if Reid was willing to try to forge some kind of relationship with his father, then Morgan wasn't going to stop him. He figured Reid needed some kind of happiness in his life after all the pain he'd been through. And he supposed he was glad that William was at least trying to make up for what he'd done.

Greg's parents had come to see their son, of course. His mother worried and fussed over him nearly as badly as Garcia had fussed over Reid. And Mrs. Sanders had even worried about Reid, even though she'd never met him. Reid smiled slightly at the memory of the woman.

From across the room, Greg groaned, laying back against the stiff pillows. "When is Nick gonna get here?" he muttered.

"Nick's picking you up?" Reid asked.

"Yeah, he was supposed to be here almost thirty minutes ago. He's probably stalling just to annoy me."

"Or he had something important to do," Reid suggested.

"You don't know Nick."

Reid laughed, shaking his head. "Fine, he's late just to irritate you."

"Thank you! Someone who agrees with me!" Greg laughed, pretending to cheer.

Reid chuckled lightly and leaned his head back, careful not to stretch too far and pull at his stomach again. He sighed, almost wishing that he had accepted the doctor's offer of pain relievers… but despite the fact that he had successful been given morphine without forming any kind of cravings for the drug yet, he wasn't willing to risk it. Anything more powerful than Tylenol was unacceptable.

A few minutes later there was a knock on the door and Nick, Hotch and Morgan entered. "Hey, Pretty Boy, how are ya feeling?" Morgan asked, grabbing Reid's bag from the end of the bed and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Wonderful," Reid said sarcastically, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing carefully. "What took you so long?"

"Traffic," Nick said. "That and the fact that your boss man here drove like an old woman."

Hotch didn't say anything, he just glared at the younger man, but there was a flicker of humor in his dark eyes.

"I told you, Hotch, you should've let me drive." Morgan said, grinning.

Hotch ignored them, "You sure you're alright, Reid?" he asked, noticing his colleague wince as he took a step toward them.

"He's fine," Greg said, walking over to them. "He just won't take the pain meds the doctor tried to give him."

Reid blushed and looked down at the floor for a minute, avoiding eye contact with Morgan and Hotch. Morgan was looking at him sympathetically, knowing how difficult it must been to deal with the pain, but understanding his reasoning behind it. Hotch had a look very near pride on his face. Even with a very legitimate reason to need drugs, Reid had chosen to deal with the pain, rather than risk the temptation.

Nick look confused, "What, why not? You were shot, kid! You don't have to deal with that pain, you know."

"That's what I said," Greg nodded in agreement.

Reid shrugged and muttered something about not liking how drugs effected his mind. "We'd better get going," Morgan said, changing the subject. "Everyone else is already waiting on the jet, and Garcia is getting impatient."

They all laughed and headed out of the room, Reid and Greg glad to finally be leaving. "Bye, guys!" Nick and Greg called as they climbed into a dark SUV.

The agents waved their goodbyes as they got into a similar vehicle and began driving toward the airstrip. Reid leaned his head against the soft leather seat and sighed. Finally, they were on their way home.

"I don't think I'm going to come back to Vegas for a long time," he mumbled.

END

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**E/N: *tears* Can anyone else believe that it's over! Why do I feel like that happened too quickly when this is 5 chapters longer than my usual stories and only one chapter shorter than "A Father's Love"? Is it just me?**

**Imma miss this story… Thanks to all of my fabulous, amazing, phenomenal, sparkling (yep, u guys sparkle… like diamonds), threatening, loving, hating, awesomefully fabtabulous readers and reviewers! This story wouldn't exist without any of you!**

**And now… please review! Seriously, the button is RIGHT THERE… it would be a shame to neglect it… it's lonely…**


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